


Not Quite Sky High

by angelofthequeers



Series: Oneshots [42]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Absolutely No Angst, Accidentally High, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Astroglide: The Official Lubricant of the Supernatural Fandom, Autistic Castiel (Supernatural), Bisexual Dean Winchester, Cas gets high off cold medication, Cas is a clingy shit, Common Cold, Cuddling & Snuggling, Definitely NOT based on personal experience no sir, Demisexual Castiel (Supernatural), Does this count as drug use?, Fluff, Human Castiel, I don't think so because it's just unintentional side effects, Kissing, M/M, Romance, Sick Castiel, Smut, Unless you count being sick as angst lol, Virgin Castiel, Wait what is that seriously a tag lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-08-21 02:19:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16567733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelofthequeers/pseuds/angelofthequeers
Summary: When Dean decides that Cas is in need of some cold medication, he's not exactly expecting the guy to get high as a damn kite. Nor he is expecting a love confession. But hey, maybe off-your-face honesty has its uses...





	Not Quite Sky High

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own SPN.
> 
> I’m currently high on cold meds and spent five minutes crying over dropped M&Ms so enjoy me projecting heavily onto Cas and using my own med-high shit as humour fuel lmao
> 
> Also let’s just pretend that April never happened because I absolutely refuse to acknowledge that triggering coerced non-consent shit
> 
> ~~I didn't actually mean to write smut but we all know what a weak bitch I am lol~~

 

Ever since Cas had given up what remained of his grace and been shoved into the life of a regular old mud monkey, Dean has learned three crucial things about the guy:

One, he inhales coffee like it’s oxygen, and while coffee-deprived morning Cas is downright adorable, he’s also possibly the scariest thing currently in existence.

Two, he gravitates towards warmth. There are never less than two blankets on his bed at any time, and if he can attach himself to someone, there’s more chance of being pulled out of a black hole than out of Cas’ grip. This very frequently leaves Dean a victim of Cas’ octopus grip, since Sam seems to have an uncanny knack of disappearing whenever Cas is on the war path for body warmth. There have only been two or three times when Sam hasn’t escaped and been forced to play stuffed animal for Cas, something that Dean had taken great joy in jeering about until Sam had pointedly reminded him of all the times Dean had been in his position.

And three? He’s a goddamn lightweight. Oh, alcohol’s fine; Dean can usually cut him off before he tips into drunk territory, which is usually after about a drink and a half, and even then, he’s a more emotional than giddy drunk. No, it’s the damn cold medication that gets him off his face and turns him into a giggly little bitch.

“What the hell did you give him?” Dean snaps at Sam, while Cas sits at the bunker table and giggles at…something. Dean doesn’t even know anymore. He’d lost track of Cas’ train of thought since the guy had loudly declared his name to be Cocaine – something about being wet from his spilled drink and Mars and red? Whatever.

“The same crap we use!” Sam says. “I only gave him two pills to help clear him out so he could sleep!”

“Great,” Dean groans. “Of course he’d get high off cold meds.”

“Well, one of us has to stay with him,” Sam says. “If we leave him alone, he’ll probably hurt himself.”

“No!” Cas says loudly, jabbing a finger in the air before sniffling and fumbling for his tissues. “I know what I’m doing!”

“Sure you do,” Dean says with a rather forced smile that’s probably condescending as shit.

“Don’t be meeeean.” Cas wipes his nose viciously. “I’m not drunk. I know exactly what I’m doing! I’m just letting myself do what I want. I have no – no –” He pauses for a moment, brow furrowed, and if that isn’t the cutest shit Dean’s ever seen then he’ll eat his dead guy robe. “Inhibitions! No inhibitions! I have no voice in my head telling me not to do something like I normally do.”

Dean mutters a strong curse under his breath.

“That’s not nice.” Cas’ mouth droops. “That’s bad language, Dean. You always tell me not to say that stuff.” His face brightens. “Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck –”

“Alright, alright,” Dean says loudly to try and stop Cas from going on his f-bomb bender. Naturally, this just makes Cas swear louder. “Sam, what the fuck do we do?”

“Fuck!” Cas bellows, then breaks into such a strong fit of laughter while dabbing his nose that he slides half-off his chair, tears streaming down his face. It's not even that funny but to Cas in his drugged haze, it's probably the most hilarious thing ever.

“I think we just have to wait for it to wear off,” Sam says with a helpless shrug. “It doesn’t look serious or anything. You just have to make sure that he doesn’t jump off the balcony and try to fly without his inhibitions.”

“That’s a great idea!” Cas says. “Maybe Father will give my wings back if I prove my bravery!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Dean jumps up and grabs Cas around the waist as the stoned guy stands up, then forces him back into his seat. “No one’s doin’ any flying. Sam, shut up before Cas accidentally offs himself from one of your suggestions.”

Sam rolls his eyes but doesn’t offer any more shitty suggestions. Cas takes advantage of the moment to lean down and press a loud, wet kiss to the shiny wood of the table.

“What the hell?” Dean lets go of Cas, staring at him like the guy just grew an extra arm. “Did you just kiss the damn table?”

“I felt like doing that,” Cas says simply. “So I did. And I liked it.” He squints up at Dean, his smile eerily reminiscent of 2014 Croatoan Cas. “Your eyes are so pretty, Dean. So greeeeen.”

“I’ll just – go and do some research. In my room,” Sam says quickly, no doubt misinterpreting Dean’s uncomfortable silence as due to Cas’ medication-high flirtation rather than the memory of drug-fucked Cas. Before Dean can protest, Sam’s gone from the room like he wasn’t even there, leaving Dean to cop the full brunt of Cas’ attention.

“Okay, how ‘bout you just…go and sleep, yeah?” Dean says. “Sleep it off. Rest is good when you’re sick, anyway, and I’ll make you tomato rice soup –”

“But I don’t wannaaaaa,” Cas whines. He reaches up, swiping at Dean’s shirt, hand too close to Dean’s groin for comfort considering that Dean’s been crushing hopelessly on him for years. “Dean, you’re so pretty –”

“Okay, one? You don’t call a guy pretty.” Dean slaps Cas’ hand away. “And two? You’re high off your face, man.”

“I know what I’m doing!” Cas says with the most adorable cross little pout. He even crosses his arms like a sullen toddler, like that’ll get his point across. “I just have no – no _inhibitions_ to stop me from telling you this.”

“That’s not a good thing, man.”

“It is!” Cas throws his arms up and giggles, then claps his hands over his mouth to prevent himself from falling into another laughing fit. “I can be honest and not even care! I feel _free_ , Dean!” He frowns down at his feet. “Does that mean that I’m Dobby? But you didn’t give me a sock. That means I’m not free!”

“Alright, you’re fuckin’ going to bed ‘cause I ain’t dealing with this,” Dean says before Cas can start talking about personal shit with his brain-to-mouth filter currently out of order. He hauls Cas out of the chair and marches him down the hall, but Cas giggles and pushes Dean through a door before they can reach Cas’ room.

“I like your room, Deeeean,” Cas says, closing the door behind them. He takes a deep breath, air whistling through his clogged nose. “It smells nice. And your bed is comfortable.”

“Of course it is,” Dean says. “It’s got memory – wait. How do you know –?”

“I come and lie in it sometimes.” Cas beams toothily at Dean. “When you’re not here. It smells like you and it’s very stimulating to my senses and that makes me happy. _You_ make me happy.”

“Okay, that’s creepy as fuck,” Dean says, refusing to admit that it’s actually kind of flattering as well. God, why did Cas have to get high? Sure, he _claims_ that he’s being honest and he knows fully what he’s doing, but there’s no way for Dean to be sure. So, he has to take Cas’ words with a grain of salt, which includes the increasingly likely scenario of Cas confessing feelings for him.

(But by god, does he want that to happen).

“Ohhhh, right,” Cas says in a hushed voice. “Personal space! You keep telling me! But I like being in your personal space, Dean.” He pushes Dean back on the bed and then, before Dean can even react, curls around him like a vine. Dean freezes. Out of all the times he’s fallen victim to Cas’ clinginess, it’s never been in a damn _bed_. The implications are – okay, yeah, not thinking about that. Not even going there.

“Cas – get _off_ me –”

“But you’re warm, Dean!” Cas purrs and rubs his face against Dean’s shirt, nuzzling into his chest. “I like that you’re so warm. I like cuddling you. I like _you_.”

“No – I ain’t doin’ this, so get _off_!” Dean shoves at Cas, desperately trying to push him away before shit happens that they can’t take back. Like, you know, _kissing_ each other, even though Dean would sell his soul for a tiny taste of Cas’ mouth.

“Okay.” His bottom lip quivering, Cas lets go of Dean and shuffles away. Guilt immediately starts to eat at Dean’s stomach at the pathetic look on Cas’ face. “I’m sorry, Dean. You don’t like me.”

“What? Cas, of course I like you.” Dean reaches out, but Cas shrinks away, eyeing Dean’s hand like it’s going to jump at him and attack him.

“No!” Cas shakes his head feverishly. “You don’t _like_ me!”

“Cas –”

“You don’t need to apologise, Dean.” Cas’ lip trembles harder. “It’s okay. I should have realised because you’re mean to me every time I want to cuddle. And you don’t like it when I compliment you. I know you’re not –” his voice drops to a whisper, “– _gay_. Or bisexual, to be more accurate. I shouldn’t force you to touch me when you don’t want to.”

“Uh, Cas, I do –”

“I’m sorryyyyy,” Cas wails before Dean can finish his sentence and confess that he actually does like their cuddles and his grumpiness is just him being an asshole as usual. “I don’t like making you upset, Dean. Everyone else makes you upset. You deserve to be _happy_.”

“IdolikeyouCas,” Dean blurts out. Cas’ bright blue eyes widen, until he’s staring at Dean with child-like wonder. Dean swallows and runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t – I like it when you – ugh, when you _cuddle_. I’m just an asshole, okay? And I – I do _like_ you.”

“Yay!” Cas dives at Dean and flops on top of him, pressing loud, clumsy kisses all over Dean’s face. “That means I can cuddle you and kiss you and sleep in your bed with you and make you breakfast in bed and we can be _happy_ together –”

“Okay, whoa, slow down,” Dean says when Cas tries to plant one on his lips. He gently pushes the pouting ex-angel away, though refusing a kiss from Cas after years of pining is possibly one of the hardest things he’s ever done. Honestly, he deserves an award for that.

“You _don’t_ want to kiss me?” Cas sniffles, then he sneezes loudly and wipes his nose with his plaid sleeve.

“Course I do,” Dean says. “Just…not when you’re like this, okay?”

“I _told_ you!” Cas says crossly. “I know what I’m doing!”

“I never said you didn’t.” Dean holds his hands up placatingly. “I just don’t wanna kiss you when you’re high as fuck, okay? Wait till the meds wear off and then we’ll talk.”

“No, we won’t talk,” Cas says petulantly. “If we’re talking then we’re not kissing.”

Dean just shrugs in surrender.

“Fine,” Cas says. “But I’m not moving from here and you can’t make me.”

Dean just snorts and, after a moment of hesitation, allows himself to reach out and pull Cas close. The ex-angel hums and snuggles back into Dean’s side. Okay, this is…nice. Warm. His heart is currently doing the cha-cha in his chest. He just hopes that Cas remembers this when the pills wear off and still wants this, otherwise he’ll be absolutely crushed.

“Hope ya remember this,” Dean says. All he gets in response is a congested snuffle, so he looks down and his stomach flips when he sees that Cas is out of it, mouth hanging open as he grunts and snorts in his sleep through his blocked nose. Resisting the urge to kiss Cas on the top of the head – because the last thing he needs is to get his hopes up – Dean makes himself comfortable and lets his eyes slide shut. He may as well enjoy this while he can, just in case Cas didn’t really mean it or doesn’t remember what happened when he wakes up.

* * *

The first thing that catches Dean’s attention when he drifts back to consciousness is that he actually feels well-rested for the first time in god knows how long. More than four hours of sleep? Who the hell did he sell his soul to?

The reason for this becomes clear when the warm, heavy thing sprawled across his chest moves with a groan and takes a snuffly breath. Oh. Right. He and Cas – they’d slept in the same bed – Cas had been high –

 _Oh_.

“Mornin’, sunshine,” Dean says, his tongue thick in his mouth, his heart hammering as he waits for Cas’ reaction. Cas is slow to give it. He grunts again, wipes his nose with a sleeve that’s no doubt crusty as fuck by now, sneezes into Dean’s shirt, groans loudly, then squints up at Dean with bleary blue eyes. Dean waits with bated breath.

“Good morning,” Cas croaks. He lets out another groan. “I feel like shit.”

Dean can’t help the laugh that escapes him because Cas – Cas _swore_. Even at his lowest, Cas has never cursed like that. That is, apart from last night.

“Any strange urge to jump off a balcony?” Dean says. Cas groans for a third time and buries his face in Dean’s shirt.

“I can’t believe I was actually going to do that,” he says, his voice muffled. Dean’s heart skips a beat. So, Cas remembers that. Does that mean he also remembers everything else?

“You were pretty off your face,” Dean says. “I’m banning you from taking cold meds ever again. You also convinced yourself that your name was Cocaine.”

“I know,” Cas mumbles. “And I – I said a lot of things that I didn’t mean to say.”

“Ah.” Dean swallows, his throat suddenly dry. “Yeah, you were pretty talkative.”

Cas finally lifts his head so that he can squint at Dean. Dean swallows and looks away, waiting for the metaphorical shoe to fall.

“I meant everything I said,” Cas says. “I just didn’t mean to say it. I lost what few inhibitions I had that would normally prevent me from being inappropriately honest and open by your standards.”

“So – you meant –” Dean says rather weakly. Cas rolls his eyes, another habit he’s picked up from Dean.

“Of course I did,” he says. “You already have enough self-worth issues without me doing something so cruel.”

Before Dean can say anything about that, Cas grunts and pushes himself up so that he can shuffle up the bed. He lets himself fall on top of Dean with a huff, then reaches out to brush strands of hair off Dean’s forehead, then trails his fingers across Dean’s lips…and then finally sniffles hard and presses his mouth to Dean’s gently, tongue hesitantly tracing the seam of Dean’s lips.

 _AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA_ is about all Dean’s mind can do.

“Oh,” Cas says stuffily when he pulls away to gulp in air so that he doesn’t pass out from congestion. “You’ll catch my cold. I didn’t think about that.”

“Does it look like I give a fuck?” Dean says. “Just keep kissin’ me, man. Probably too late anyway, you would've already passed the germs on.”

Cas hums and obliges, licking his way into Dean’s mouth. Dean groans and reaches up to tangle his fingers in Cas’ dark hair, pulling him close because _finally, took damn long enough, fucking finally –_

He freezes when something hard starts digging into his hip. Cas breaks the kiss to bite his lip, face flushing bright pink, and stare down between their bodies at the obvious bulge in his jeans. Dean swallows, then somehow manages to suppress his fearful apprehension at having another guy’s dick so close to him because there’s no way he’s letting his own shit sabotage him now, after so long dancing around Cas. It’s probably his years of experience with emotional repression that lets him bury his crap now, though the annoying Sam voice in his head reminds him that this isn’t all that healthy.

“My apologies,” Cas says, looking remarkably like a deer caught in headlights. “I couldn’t – I can’t control –”

“Course you can’t,” Dean says. “No one can control those fuckers. Hell, I wake up hard half the time for no damn reason.” He conveniently doesn’t mention that a lot of those times are due to certain dreams about a certain someone. There are things that you just don’t tell someone when you got the okay to kiss them only a few minutes before.

“It feels…odd,” Cas says. “Theoretically, I know why it’s happening. But I’ve never –”

“Big difference between knowing and doing, yeah?” Dean says with an encouraging smile, carefully resting his hands on Cas’ hips like Cas is an animal he’s trying not to spook. “We don’t have to do anything if ya don’t want, y’know. Especially ‘cause you’re sick and all.”

Cas squirms and shifts, dragging his erection along Dean’s hip with a congested hiss. “I don’t see how being sick prevents me from having sex,” he says.

“I mean, you’ll probably suffocate yourself,” Dean says. Cas gives him such an unimpressed look that he can’t help but laugh, which just seems to offend Cas because the guy huffs and pushes himself upright.

“Don’t laugh at me,” Cas says sullenly, his fingers brushing over the hard-on in Dean’s jeans as he fumbles with the button and sending a spark jolting straight up from Dean’s crotch. “I feel like you’re patronising me.”

“I would never,” Dean grins. He inhales sharply and digs his fingers into Cas’ hips when Cas squeezes his erection in retaliation.

“Don’t be facetious,” Cas says. Having finally popped the button and pulled the zipper down, he slides off Dean so that he can tug Dean’s jeans and boxer briefs down. Dean decides to be helpful by sitting up to shuck off his T-shirt, although he gets a dirty look and a reprimand for not letting Cas do it in return. As punishment, Cas doesn’t even let Dean undress him, instead choosing to stumble to his feet so he can take his clothes off.

“You know that undressing the other person is half the fun, right?” Dean complains when Cas straddles him again, their naked cocks sliding together now that there’s nothing between them. Cas makes a soft sound, then rocks his hips slowly and groans.

“Then you shouldn’t have taken your own shirt off,” he says breathlessly, although whether that’s due to arousal or stuffiness, Dean has no idea. Cas thrusts again, and the feeling leaves Dean’s head whirling, but it’s also just a little too rough for his liking.

“Hold on,” Dean manages to force out. He twists to rummage in his bedside table for his bottle of Astroglide, Cas’ blue eyes watching him with unwavering interest, and when he emerges with the purple bottle, his cheeks heat up when he sees that he’s accidentally also caught hold of a condom.

“What’s that?” Cas says.

“Lube.” Dean wiggles the bottle. “Makes things feel better.”

“Ah,” Cas says. “Added lubrication reduces friction. Simple physics.”

“Nerd,” Dean mumbles. Cas rolls his eyes and reaches out to squeeze Dean’s hard cock as payback, which doesn’t exactly quell the fire starting to simmer in Dean’s belly.

“And what’s what?” Cas says, pointing at the small foil packet. Dean’s warm cheeks grow even hotter.

“Condom,” he mutters. He clears his throat and raises his voice. “Helps protect against shit you can catch from sticking your dick in someone. And it’s also been a literal lifesaver for all my one-night stands so I don’t get some chick pregnant, ‘cause I ain’t raising a kid on the road.”

Cas hums, regarding the condom with a tilted head. “Would you like to ‘stick your dick’ in me?” he says. Dean splutters at Cas’ conversational tone, like he’s asking if Dean wants a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. “I hadn’t planned on it, but I rather like the sound of it.”

“Only if you wanna,” Dean says hoarsely. “If it’s too much then I can just jerk you off or somethin’. I mean, we did just get together like twenty minutes ago.”

“Would I have offered if I didn’t want to?” Cas says. Dean shakes his head because no, Cas wouldn’t offer to let someone fuck him just to make them happy when there are other ways that he could do so. The guy might be unhealthily self-sacrificing but it’s not like he doesn’t have the balls to stand up for himself.

“Just makin’ sure,” Dean says. “I just gotta say that I didn’t actually plan on any of this. Just so you don’t think I’m a sex-crazed monster or somethin’.”

“If I didn’t think that about you before then why would I think that about you now?” Cas says in that annoyingly, bluntly honest way of his. “But if you don’t want to –”

“Cas. Babe.” The nickname slips from Dean’s mouth before he can help it. “Pro-tip: never ask a guy if he doesn’t want sex. Like, ever. You’re just wasting your breath.” For some reason, ‘babe’ doesn’t sound overly cheesy or gag-worthy when it applies to Cas. Dean suspects that it’s because of Cas’ lack of knowledge and care of societal norms, which is pretty much why he’s always felt so comfortable around Cas in a way he hasn’t felt around anyone else. Even Sam, for all his crap about being open and talking about feelings, grew up in the same society and internalised the same shit.

“Asexual people exist,” Cas says patiently as Dean lubes his fingers.

“Huh?” Dean says, pausing with a finger against Cas’ hole. Cas sighs and wiggles his hips until Dean pushes it in, his clogged nose whistling as he breathes in sharply at the intrusion.

“Asexual people. Who don’t – _ah_ – experience sexual attraction. Many of them don’t want sex. I thought I was asexual, but you were always the outlying factor that made me doubt.” He groans when Dean adds another finger and he thrusts his hips back, gyrating slowly on top of Dean like some kind of wet dream sent to kill Dean out of sheer sexiness. “Now I realise that – _ooh_ – that I’m demisexual. I essentially _am_ asexual but – I can’t concentrate with you doing that – but you’re the only person I feel sexually attracted to. Because of our profound bond.”

“Aren’t angels a bunch of junkless asshats anyway?” Dean says. Cas shakes his head violently, clenching around Dean’s finger as a third is added.

“Do – do you not remember Gabriel?” Cas says, sounding like he’s struggling not to choke on hard-won air. “And Balthazar. And Anna. I’ve always been an oddity. Even – _oh_ – even so far as my very being. My…ah, I suppose neurology is different, like autism in humans. No other angel is as oblivious and literal and socially inept –”

“And they’re the things I lo – like about you,” Dean says, immediately dodging _that_ word before it can escape. Thankfully, Cas seems to have missed his near slip. Equally thankfully, he seems to be stretched enough, so Dean removes his fingers and tears open the condom to roll on while Cas makes small mewling sounds and thrusts his hips in search of friction.

“Deeeean,” he whines. Dean just grins, then positions himself once he’s finally got the condom on. Despite Cas’ attempts to just sit straight on Dean’s dick, Dean holds him by the waist and slowly lowers him, ensuring that he doesn’t hurt himself and – _oh_. Oh god. The feeling of Cas tight and hot around his dick is just – _wow_. Cas doesn’t seem to be faring much better, as he’s bodily slumped forward with his mouth slack, upright only because of the support of his shaking arms and Dean’s grip around his waist.

“You okay?” Dean says, thrusting shallowly to stretch Cas that little bit more so he can bottom out. Cas groans and sags even further, leaving Dean to hold him up.

“I feel light-headed,” he says. “This probably was a bad idea. But I don’t want to stop.”

“Hold on.” Cradling Cas to himself, Dean rolls over so that Cas can melt into the bed, brilliant blue eyes half-closed and watching Dean hazily. Dean wriggles his arms out from under Cas so he can reach back and wrap the ex-angel’s legs around his waist, making sure that they’re locked in place before he starts thrusting again.

“ _Ohhhh_.” Cas’ eyes slide shut but reluctantly, like he’s struggling to keep them open to watch Dean. “That feels – _oh_.”

“Just relax, sunshine,” Dean says. “Leave it to me. I’ll make you feel so good.”

Dean’s many, _many_ fantasies stored in his spank bank about his first time with Cas largely entail rough passion. Either he’d pound into Cas like his life depended on it, or Cas would be the biggest goddamn turn-on ever and throw Dean down before railing his ass to within an inch of his life. But this slow sex, although not what he’d expected, is just as amazing as his rough fantasies. His mind dares to volunteer a certain two words that are definitely not ‘making love’ but he shuts that down before it can even begin. Okay, so he’s being gentle and tender and he _feels_ that way about Cas and – nope. No way. Not going there.

But fuck, the thought of this being one of the only times in his life where it’s not just sex or fucking is enough to make his blood crackle and boil.

“Alright, Cas?” Dean gasps, pausing in his thrusts to just grind into Cas. Cas moans and lifts his arms so he can grab handfuls of Dean’s ass and pull, keeping him pressed inside.

“I’m in Heaven,” Cas says dreamily. “There’s no way I can feel this good and not be in Heaven.”

“Fuck Heaven.” Dean resumes his thrusting. He knows the exact moment when he finds Cas’ prostate because the ex-angel seizes up and lets out another loud moan, then squeezes his legs around Dean’s waist so he can lift his pelvis into Dean’s thrusts. “Those assholes aren’t the ones makin’ you feel good.”

“I feel like I’m high again.” Cas’ hooded eyes stare up at Dean, glazed and unfocused. “But this is so much more pleasurable than cold medication.”

Dean lets out a weak chuckle, then slightly increases the force of his thrusts and drops down onto his forearms so he can crush his lips to Cas’. Cas groans and kisses back, hands moving from Dean’s ass to tangle in his hair. His breath starts to escape in soft, punched-out intervals when Dean kisses down his neck and then latches on to the sweaty skin of his throat, inhaling his earthy scent like Dean’s life depends on it.

“Just you wait till you come,” Dean says. “You’ll be seein’ stars.”

“I’ve already seen stars,” Cas says dazedly. “They become rather unimpressive after a few millennia.”

Dean laughs at that because it’s so _Cas_. His orgasm is beginning to curl in his gut, preparing to send tendrils of pleasure through him, so he reaches down to grasp Cas’ dick and stroke while taking Cas’ left nipple between his teeth. Cas’ intervals of breaths become intervals of moans as he writhes, torn between thrusting up into Dean’s hand and down onto his cock. When Cas finally seizes up, letting out one long moan as he spills over Dean’s fist, the fire begins to spill in Dean’s belly, and it takes just a few more thrusts into Cas’ fucked-out body before Dean’s also coming, biting down hard on the meat between Cas’ neck and shoulder.

“Wow,” Cas says faintly. Dean snickers, pulling out so he can remove and tie off the condom and toss it in the general direction of his trash can. He fumbles on the floor for the first piece of clothing he can find and uses it to clean his hand and then wipe Cas’ messy stomach almost reverently, briefly mourning that he didn’t get the chance to properly worship Cas’ body like the work of art it is. Next time, when the poor guy isn’t sick. Dean throws the shirt away, not even caring that it’s his, and collapses next to Cas, who immediately snuggles into his side.

“Not bad for your first time, right?” Dean says.

“Now I see why sexual intercourse is forbidden for angels,” Cas says. “Why would I want to go back when you do that to me?”

“Just wait till you branch out,” Dean says rather smugly, preening at Cas’ praise. He presses a kiss to Cas’ messy, sweaty hair and squeezes the ex-angel tightly. “Can’t believe we even got to this point.”

Cas hums faintly. Dean can’t help but grin when he realises that Cas is falling back asleep despite his stuffy nose.

“Don’t want to sleep,” Cas complains softly when Dean starts to stroke his hair.

“Just do it,” Dean says. “You gotta rest to get better and as amazing as sex feels, that ain’t resting. Sleep and I’ll make you some soup later, then I’ll run you a bath in that creepy Victorian bath we never use.”

Cas’ forceful exhale is the only indication that he’s heard Dean. In just a few minutes, he’s congestion-snoring away, tangled around Dean’s body like an octopus. This time, Dean’s allowed to let himself indulge and enjoy and he intends to take full advantage of that.

* * *

“I told you,” Cas says only half-sympathetically as Dean coughs and splutters the next day, struggling to draw in breath through his blocked nose. “I’m sorry I passed my cold on, Dean, even if the sex was amazing.”

“Worth it,” Dean croaks, wishing that his suffering would just end. But there’s no way he’s taking cold medication. Knowing his luck, he’ll end up just like Cas and actually _will_ try and jump off a balcony to earn wings. Cas smiles in pitying amusement and runs his fingers through Dean’s hair. He’s still fighting off the tail end of his cold but he’s a damn sight better than Dean at the moment.

“Rest, Dean,” Cas says. “I’ll ask Sam to teach me how to make your soup. But we can’t have sex until you’re all better. I don’t want you to overexert yourself.”

Dean whines loudly. How is this fair? He just won’t play babysitter again. Sam can do that job next time, minus sleeping with an ex-angel. Said ex-angel kisses him on the forehead and slips out of bed to throw clothes on and leave.

“Fine,” Dean complains, crossing his arms. “Guess I’ll just die here, then.”

There’s no response. But Cas is totally laughing at him outside the room, he just knows it. And he doesn’t even get to be giddily high, dammit.


End file.
